Too Little, Too Late
by RunningInAir
Summary: Tessa has just left Will in the library after her devastating revelation that she is engaged to Jem. Will, conflicted and upset, is left to his ruminations and heart-ache, trying to come to terms with the fact that his own parabatai is going to marry the woman he loves. One-shot.


_Too little, too late._

"_I am engaged to Jem."_

Those words seemed to echo around in his head, ricocheting off every crevice of his mind until he thought he might go mad. He had finally, _finally_ discovered that the curse he had believed haunted him for most of his life - the very reason he had kept everyone at arm's length - had never existed. Years…he had wasted _years_ of his life being overly sarcastic, hateful, and pushing everyone away from him; years spent thinking if anyone loved him, they would die. It had been a heavy burden to bear. A guilty burden.

Because he had fallen in love with Tessa Gray. He had been loath to admit it, unwilling to risk her safety for such a selfish reason, but in the end, there was no denying it. In the end, he had admitted to himself that he was fully in love with the willful girl. In the end, he had thrown himself at Magnus' mercy, begging him to summon that demon. In the end…it had not even mattered.

_Too little, too late._

William Herondale waited a few minutes, making sure that Tessa had plenty of time to disappear down the hallway, before he pulled the library door open and stepped out. Dark blue eyes swept up and down the corridor. He saw no one, not even a shadow along the wall. His heart ached to go to Jem. His parabatai was the one who would normally soothe his inner wounds, the only one who knew how to make the stubborn, perpetually angry boy smile; but now…now Will could not go to Jem. It was _because _of Jem that he hurt.

And what a strange sensation that was.

So, instead of moving down the hall towards the room with the silver-haired boy, Will turned towards his own room. There would be no comforting violin music in his room. The gentle humor and wit of his parabatai would not be found. He would be alone, but perhaps that was for the best. His feet were soundless as he made his way across the hall, gently pushing open the door to his own room, and closing it softly behind him. Each movement he made was deliberate, careful. If he moved too quickly, he felt he might break apart.

At first, he moved towards the bed. Perhaps if he just laid down and went to sleep he could pretend that none of this had happened, but there on his nightstand was "A Tale of Two Cities," flipped open to the cover page where a half-completed message was visible.

_Too little, too late._

"AUGH!" With a fierce violence, Will grabbed the candle holder from the nightstand and launched it across his bedroom. The silver hit the stone with a sharp clang and fell to the floor, tumbling to one side. A half-sob wrenched itself free from his throat as he sat down on the edge of his bed, fingers running up and through the black curls that brushed across his forehead. He did not know what was worse: not having Tessa, or that brief moment in which he had resented Jem.

He should be happy for them. James Carstairs, who was surely not long for this world, deserved every ounce of happiness he could find; and Tessa, sweet Tessa, she deserved to be with whomever she wanted. He could not blame her, after the horrible things he had said. He did not deserve her, but Jem did. Jem deserved her love and so much more.

Did that make the ache in his chest any less debilitating? Not even remotely.

With a sound that was part-sigh-part-groan, Will fell backwards onto his bed, his feet resting on the floor. Eyes wide, he stared at the ceiling, feeling like his heart was going to break apart right between his ribs, shards of it falling down to pierce every organ in his body until he was riddled with holes.

Because Jem could never know. He was selfless enough that he would break the engagement, wanting to spare Will every pain he possibly could. Despite being the one dying, Jem would give everything up for Will. Well, now it was Will's turn to give something up for Jem, and he would do it if it killed him, which it very well could. It would wrench at his heart every time he saw them together, but he would bear it with a smile, never letting his parabatai know the awful pain he was feeling. It was more than just their engagement, the fact that they would soon be married…because Jem would not be around forever. Though he had refused to admit that they would never find a cure, deep inside William knew that his other half was going to die.

And when that day came, he would no longer have his Jem, and he would be unable to have Tessa. How could he pursue the widow of his own brother? It would be indecent, improper, horrible. No, he would never besmirch Jem's memory by seeking to be with his wife.

In one night, Will had received the happiest news of his life…and the worst.

He had gained the knowledge that he was not cursed, but he had lost the woman he loved.

Fate was a cruel, twisted wench.

A soft, tentative knock on his door tore Will from his internal hell. _"Hell is cold."_ The memory of Tessa's words flitted through his mind, and he closed his eyes tightly. _If hell is cold, then why do I feel like every inch of my body is burning in a ghastly, everlasting fire? _Without opening his eyes, he spoke loudly, "come in!" He had been found in odder positions than this - at least he was fully clothed this time.

"Master Will?"

"Ah, Sophie. Come to visit me in my boudoir at last, have you?" Even without looking at her, he knew the servant girl's face would be ruby red, the scar standing out even more as a result. If he was honest, though, Will hardly noticed the scar anymore.

"Do not be absurd. I heard a crash and merely came to ensure you had not hurt someone."

"Not worried over my own health and safety then?" His tone was mocking, an old habit that he did not quite know how to break. A near-lifetime of treating others like dirt was not something that was going to just slide off as if he were shedding a cloak. Sophie did not respond with any words, merely a derisive snort. The click of the door closing was the only indication she had left.

Will opened his eyes again, moving his arms so they were spread wide and out to either side of his body, stretching the hole in his chest until he was certain that was all he would become.

"_I am engaged to Jem."_

A single tear leaked out of one blue eye, sliding down the side of his face, leaving a glistening, salty trail as it went. Just when he thought he could have it all, he would lose them both.

Perhaps he really _was_ cursed after all.


End file.
